


Plenty to be Thankful For

by al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons



Series: This Year's Love [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cute Autumn Boyfriends, Established Relationship, Fluff, Inspired by Music, M/M, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-25 00:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20367553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons/pseuds/al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons
Summary: “I’m thinking…that we should host a Friendsgiving. Here at the store.”“Are you serious?”  Patrick couldn’t think of something less on-brand for David. He wondered out loud if David was running a fever.David rolled his eyes, gesturing loosely as if to wave the idea away.“Fine, if you don’t want to do it-““No, David, I do. I really do.” Patrick couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he leaned in to kiss David firmly. He knew the only thing David hated more than tacky social interactions was seeing people he cared about unhappy, whether David admitted it or not.Or, Patrick is missing his family on his first Thanksgiving away from home, and David wants to make it right.





	Plenty to be Thankful For

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first in a four-part series, This Year's Love. Each will be a standalone, seasonal-themed story, loosely canon-compliant and meant to take place within the first year of their relationship. 
> 
> Thank you to Annie for being an awesome beta!
> 
> Series title from "This Year's Love" by David Gray. Story title from the song "I've Got Plenty to be Thankful For" by Bing Crosby

It’s Patrick’s favorite time of year. If spring is about new beginnings, fall is about reflection and gratitude, themes that seemed fitting for this particular season of his life. After years of anxiety and uncertainty, not really understanding his direction in life, he’d found his path with David, with the store, here in Schitt’s Creek, and he was grateful. 

The town pulled out all the stops for the autumn season. The annual Harvest Festival was in full swing, Thanksgiving was coming up, and the trees dressed up in their best and brightest fall colors. David had even agreed to some tasteful seasonal decor around the store, lanterns and white pumpkins adorning the doorstep. 

The only thing missing was his family. Patrick loved Schitt’s Creek, loved the life he’d started to build there. But the holidays were coming up, and he couldn’t help but feel a little melancholy about not spending time with his parents. David’s family didn’t really do holidays anymore; although David lamented on more than one occasion how much he missed Adelina’s festive spreads, they didn’t make any effort to recreate their old traditions here. 

One early October afternoon, Patrick was feeling particularly homesick and sorry for himself. He was at the store just after closing, arranging a display of fall produce- apples, miniature pumpkins, a few gourds- trying to stack them in an “effortless but neat way,” per David’s completely unclear instructions. After they collapsed for the fourth time, rolling in all directions across the floor, he sighed in defeat, sliding to the floor to sit against the checkout counter. He picked up an apple that was within reach, turning it in his hand. 

He heard David come out of the back room, pause for a moment, and call out for him in a confused tone. 

“Down here,” Patrick waved the hand with the apple lazily so it would be visible above the counter. David’s face appeared above him as he peeked over it, and Patrick tipped his head back slightly to look up at him. 

“Hi,” David said softly. “What are we doing on the floor?”

“Feeling sorry for ourselves.” David frowned, disappearing from sight for a moment before coming to join him on the floor. He sat as close to Patrick as possible, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. Patrick leaned into him unconsciously, grounded by his solid presence. 

“Why are we feeling sorry for ourselves?” 

Patrick heaved a great sigh, rolling the apple around in his fingers, examining it closely.

“Did….did the apple say something mean to you, or..?” David asked quietly, eyebrows knitted together in exaggerated concern. Patrick rolled his eyes at him, shaking his head. He considered for a moment what to say to David. Bringing up his family was difficult, given his current situation. 

“I miss my mom’s apple pie,” he said finally. David’s expression softened, mouth twisting ruefully, sympathetic. 

“This is the first Thanksgiving I won’t be spending with my parents, in my entire life. It was always a big deal, you know? All my cousins, the table practically buckling from the weight of all the food.” 

David got a dreamy look on his face, the way he sometimes did when Patrick would talk about his childhood. Patrick knew his was vastly different, and sometimes it seemed like he envied it. 

“We would always eat until we couldn’t move, fall asleep on the couch for an hour, then head outside to play football until it got too dark to see anything.” David’s expression darkened, nose wrinkled slightly at the mention of a sports activity, less dreamy than before. Maybe he didn’t envy all of it. 

“It was nice,” Patrick insisted. David patted Patrick’s knee soothingly. 

“I’m sure it was. I’m sorry you can’t be home this year.”

“Yeah,” Patrick swallowed over the lump that had cropped up, unbidden, in his throat. “Me too.” 

David reached over, putting an arm around his shoulder and kissing his temple. Patrick closed his eyes, allowed himself to be comforted as they sat in silence for a few minutes. They’d turned the overhead music off when they closed the store, and the only sounds were the occasional car passing by, the skittering autumn leaves blown across the sidewalk outside, and their quiet, evenly matched breathing. 

Patrick opened his eyes after a few moments, looking over at David. His lips were pursed slightly, his expression contemplative. 

“You have your thinky face on.” Patrick gently tapped the crease between David’s eyebrows with his forefinger, attempting to smooth it out. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking…that we should host a Friendsgiving. Here at the store.” Patrick stared at David incredulously, leaning away slightly in order to look at him straight-on. He searched David’s face for any hint of insincerity or irony, but saw none.

“Are you serious?” Patrick couldn’t think of something less on-brand for David than hosting a Friendsgiving. First of all, there was the name, which was tacky. Then there was having to cook. Lastly, voluntarily spending time with people who weren’t Stevie or Patrick, in the store, on a day off? He wondered out loud if David was running a fever. 

David rolled his eyes, gesturing loosely as if to wave the idea away. 

“Fine, if you don’t want to do it-“

“No, David, I do. I really do.” Patrick couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he leaned in to kiss David firmly. David laughed against his mouth, and Patrick’s chest thrummed with overwhelming gratitude and affection for the man sitting next to him. He knew the only thing David hated more than tacky social interactions was seeing people he cared about unhappy, whether David admitted it or not. 

They broke apart after a moment, and Patrick leaned back against the counter. 

“So where do we start? Moodboarding?” 

David nodded once, emphatically, trying to suppress a smile. “Yes. And I think you should call your mom and get that apple pie recipe.”

* * *

“Okay. I might have some regrets about my grand idea.” David whined. His arms were crossed, and he was shivering and looking completely adorable, if a bit grumpy. He had a beanie casually pulled onto his head, not even covering his ears, and a thin, uninsulated leather jacket thrown over a dove gray sweater. He was wearing skinny jeans with holes in them and fingerless gloves, for christ’s sake. 

They were at an apple orchard, the day before Thanksgiving, picking apples for the pie Patrick’s mom had graciously sent the recipe for. It was a chilly but bright day; perfect, in Patrick’s opinion, for apple picking. He felt invigorated, the fall air filling his lungs, crunchy leaves scattered around on the ground. This was his happy place. He was also dressed appropriately for the weather, however. 

“What kind of regrets?”

“I didn’t know Friendsgiving would require outdoor activities, and I’m suffering.” 

“You wouldn’t be suffering if you’d listened to me and worn something warmer. I mean, I know those gloves are cute, David, but they’re a little impractical.” 

“They’re very practical, actually, if your objective is to give your boyfriend an excuse to hold your hands and warm them up.” David did something that could only be described as a shimmy, stepping towards Patrick and reaching his hands out towards him. 

“You know I don’t need an excuse to hold your hand, right?” Patrick enveloped David’s hands within his own obligingly, holding them up to his mouth and warming them with his breath. 

“Well. Yes. But as you said, the gloves are also cute.”

“They are. Do you think you can suffer a little longer so we can get some apples for the pie?” David considered this for a moment. 

“Do I have to share the pie, though?”

“It’s Friends_giving_, David.” David raised his eyebrows, shrugging. 

“And?” 

Patrick rolled his eyes, planting a rough kiss on David’s mouth before pulling away, grabbing the bushel basket at his feet and striding towards the apple trees. 

David whined after him, hurrying to catch up. He watched Patrick go to work picking apples, bouncing in place to keep warm, his hands tucked tightly under his own armpits. After a few minutes of this, Patrick sighed. 

“You know this will go faster if you help me.”

“Cold hands, though.” It amazed (and disturbed) Patrick how much David sounded like Alexis sometimes. 

He paused for a moment, squinting at David as he strategized. David just looked at him, nonplussed, eyes widening as Patrick then set the basket back down and stepped towards him. Pulling him in closely by the waist so they were hip to hip, he leaned in like he was going to kiss David, lips brushing against his as he spoke, his voice low. 

“If you help me, we can make two pies.” He pressed a filthy, teasing kiss into David’s mouth, pulling back after only a second. A whine escaped David’s throat as Patrick continued. 

“Only one will be to share with everyone.” David squeezed his eyes shut, nodding enthusiastically. 

“Mmhmm. Yes. Let’s do that.” 

“If you do a really good job, we can get cider and donuts before we go home.” David kissed Patrick then, grinning against his mouth, a delighted chuckle bubbling up. 

“I like you so much right now, Patrick.”

“I like you so much too, David.”

* * *

The next day, Patrick found himself sitting back at the store, belly full of apple pie and turkey and mashed potatoes, a beer in his hand. He was pleasantly surprised at how well everything had come together; everyone had brought a dish to pass, and he'd managed to make the pie taste almost as good as his mom's. He looked around the room, unable to keep himself from smiling broadly at the motley collection of friends scattered throughout the store. 

Alexis was talking to Twyla, enthusiastically recounting the Thanksgiving she spent locked in a trunk. Jocelyn, Ronnie, and Moira were gathered in the corner, apparently discussing their next Jazzagals show. Johnny was looking flustered, trying to explain something about the motel’s water heater to Roland. Stevie, wine-drunk and misty-eyed, sat at one end of the table, taking it all in. Patrick caught David’s eye from across the room. David was standing, leaned against the checkout, looking cozy in a thick-knit off-white cardigan and simple white t-shirt. David smiled shyly as Patrick grinned at him, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. David had insisted on a “neutral tones” dress code for dinner, which no one else, besides Patrick and Moira, had bothered to adhere to. It was a different look for David, a stark contrast from his all-black wardrobe, but Patrick liked it. It felt fitting, on a day that represented the gratitude that Patrick felt for all the changes in his life.

He still felt a pang of sadness, missing his natural family, but as he looked around, he knew he had family here, too. 

* * *

Later that night, they were cuddled up in his bed at Ray’s, eating their second, secret apple pie straight out of the tin. Ray was visiting family for the holiday, and therefore couldn’t reprimand Patrick for eating in his bedroom. 

“You know what we forgot?” Patrick asked, licking a bit of apple off his thumb as he set the half-empty pie plate on the bedside table. 

“Mmm, yes. Vanilla ice cream.” 

“No. We forgot to go around the room and say what we’re grateful for this year.”

“Ah.” David nodded. “Right. And what are you grateful for?”

“I’m grateful for your lack of knowledge in filing out incorporation paperwork.” Patrick planted a kiss on David’s cheek, lips sticky with apple pie filling. David closed his eyes, a contented hum escaping his lips. “I’m grateful for Ray double-booking himself.” He kissed David’s forehead. “I’m grateful for guests who leave their drugs behind in the motel,” Patrick kissed his other cheek before dropping his voice and continuing. “I’m grateful for your family forgetting your birthday.” David’s eyes snapped open to protest this last point. 

“Okay, I get what you’re trying to say, but that’s a bit rude-“ Patrick planted a kiss on his mouth, and David sighed as he leaned him back against the pillows, his momentary irritation forgotten as Patrick did his best to show David just how much gratitude and appreciation he had for every turn of events that led to finding him. 

He was nearly asleep awhile later, as they lay curled around each other, full of warmth and affection and thanks, when David’s voice softly broke the comfortable silence.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Patrick.” Patrick snuggled closer to him, tucking his head into his bare chest and kissing him there, too. 

“Happy Thanksgiving, David.” 

  



End file.
